


theres no bed to share.

by gayonaweekday



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Brian is moving to America, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Paranoia, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 14:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayonaweekday/pseuds/gayonaweekday
Summary: david isn’t alone. there’s no reason to feel alone.





	theres no bed to share.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this because brian got his visa and he's moving to america. i'm sad about daithi being alone :')

“I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

The room was silent. Loneliness crept along the walls like a mistake of the past that lingers in your mind at nighttime. He wasn’t alone. It had been years since he last truly felt alone. It still snuck up on him, though, in short blips, reminding him that nothing was meant to last forever. Even if he reminded himself of this, it continued to agitate at his heart and play his feelings like thin, pluckable strings. 

He couldn’t breathe.

“Why would you say something like that?”

It wasn’t accusational. David could tell from how his friend’s voice softened that it was purely worry. He felt like a burden for saying it to start with. He should have kept his mouth shut, locked away with his emotions. Hiding became easier than opening up, longing became easier than seeking him out. That’s how it had always been between them. A never ending game of hide and seek.

“You’re my best friend,” he answers simply.

Brian didn’t say anything. The silence engulfed the room, wrapping David in a tight web that smothered out every last confession tucked inside of him. The house was burning.

“You still have Aliyah,” Brian finally says. “Joe and Tony.”

_ They aren’t you _ , he wanted to yell.  _ They never have been you _ .

“Guess you’re right.” he whispers instead.

A mallet was beating his heart in. Flat, bloodless, unfeeling. Brian was right, anyway. He had plenty to feel grateful for. A friendship developed over several years suddenly moving across the ocean was nothing to blink at. They would still talk. Through a microphone. A wireless connection. A satellite, traveling the seas. Electrical currents. Soundwaves. No flesh, no breath, no hesitant touches. Easy.

Why was he in this house? Tomorrow, it would be empty. He had a bed at home, a girlfriend to hold, dogs to cuddle. What possessed him, instead, to lie on this blanketed wooden floor with a man he had known for what felt like longer than the stars’ creation? Tomorrow, the space beside him would be empty.

“I’ll call you.” Brian says suddenly. 

David jumps out of his thoughts. He didn’t realize he was still awake.

“I know,” he answers.

“We’ll still play together almost daily,” Brian adds in.

“I know,” he says again.

The mallet is broken. Splintered in the remnants of an organ that did nothing but pump boiling blood into his veins. He feels cold, clammy, in need of a glass of water. But moving was death. Moving was being away from him. Brian was moving from him.

He notices the warm body next to him is still now, save for shallow breaths. Asleep. Tomorrow he would be awake, alive, alight with energy. Excited to “see his Lanai,” as he put it so sweetly before they laid down that night. David’s mouth tasted bitter. It, too, continued to linger. Every word, every waking thought, was sour and horrid. 

Jealous.

Two spirits wandered his bare shoulders and murmured. His conscience. One of benevolences. One of evils. Their voices intermingled until he couldn’t tell what was of which side.

_ That’s your Brian. _

_ He’s never been your Brian, though, has he? _

Tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes. Sleep is going to be impossible. He almost wants to wake Brian, initiate another talk, even if its brief. But he’s frozen. He can’t move, he can’t speak. Solidified. The joints in his fingers are locked in place. The arm he’s been lying on is asleep, filled with static. All that moves is his eyes, mapping the shape of Brian’s back again and again. Each curve of muscle, pull of his shoulders, trailing up to the hairs at his neckline. A perfect silhouette. 

It moves then, tossing under the blankets until a perfect image of male beauty is facing him. David has to hold his breath. His lungs don’t appreciate the burn.

Brian looks peaceful. He can’t understand how. There’s a war starting in David’s head.

_ Let’s share a bed, one last time. For old times sake, huh? _

There is no bed to share.

David shakily strokes his friend’s cheek with his thumb. Not even a stir.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

_ Goodnight, one last time. _


End file.
